


Contact

by livingforazirowley



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alcohol, Alcohol is used as an excuse, Also They Eventually Kiss, Flashback, Fluff, Fourteenth century, Hands, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), It's all about holding hands, Kissing, M/M, Not Beta Read, Public Hand Holding, The Bentley - Freeform, The Bus Scene, The Ritz, We fall like Crowley, hand holding, kiss, soft, they hold hands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-11 19:13:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20551283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livingforazirowley/pseuds/livingforazirowley
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley have leaned on each other many times over the centuries. However, now it's different and Aziraphale struggles with it because they get to do it without needing an excuse.(OR just another fanfic about Crowley and Aziraphale holding hands because there will never be enough of these).





	Contact

Six thousand years and countless evenings drinking the latest alcoholic invention that the clever little humans had came up with had inevitably lead to sporadic physical contact. Nothing to be alarmed about, maybe casual brush of fingers while walking, knees touching under the tablecloth or an overacted (un)intentional trip that ended with one helping the other regain balance. But this. This was very intentional and quite almost very sober. There was no denying it or burying the memory and pretending it didn’t happen.

The Appocawasn’t had left Crowley and Aziraphale waiting for the bus to take them back to London in place of any better means of transportation. It had been the most bonkers week of all time, and they should know. A roller coaster that went underground in an endless free fall, going through at least two rings of fire, some raining fish and a kraken; and that currently had them not knowing where they stood. But at least they got to sit together. What’s more, they were close enough to hold hands and not only in the metaphorical plane.

Crowley hadn’t made any remarks when Aziraphale sat down next to him and reached for his hand, as he would have done under similarly sober circumstances. He was just too exhausted for that. Instead, he just turned his hand upright and laced his fingers with the angel’s, lightly squeezing it, and tried to relax. He leaned back, resting his head on the back of the seat and spreading his legs in the process. He sighed. Aziraphale took a sip of wine from the bottle they had been sharing and stared outside the window while Crowley fell asleep.

*

Not only had they averted the Apocalypse, but they had fooled both Heaven and Hell to leave them alone (at least for a while). They decided that that required proper celebration, by means of having lunch at the Ritz.

“...and then I told them they didn’t have to go all the trouble!” they both cackled at that, still on the bliss of everything turning right in the end.

“Oh, angel, you bastard” Crowley reached under his sunglasses to rinse the laughing tears that were coming out of his eyes. “I would have loved to see Beelzebub’s face at you being so chilly about it, I bet they suspected something but never saw this coming” he started laughing again and pounding the table. Aziraphale laughed a bit too, marvelled at how happy the demon seemed. When Crowley settled a bit, still giggling though, Aziraphale put his hand over the demon’s and moved his thumb over the warm skin. Crowley stopped laughing and looked at their hands and then at the angel, that soft smile that Aziraphale knew all too well curving his lips. It was anything but them right now and Crowley could think of nothing else he could ask for.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but we are closing the kitchen shortly. Would you like to order anything else?” the waitress asked courteously.

“Oh, no, no, I don’t think that will be necessary” said Aziraphale, immediately removing his hand off Crowley’s and hiding it under the tablecloth, like a kid that had been caught doing something he knew he shouldn’t. “Just the bill, please” he added, drawing a polite smile and staring down at the last crumbs he had in front of him.

Crowley refused to move his hand until it was completely necessary, so he left it there. On top of the table, looking lonely. If he squinted hard enough he would be able to see where exactly the angel had been rubbing his skin a moment ago. He tapped his fingers, unable to be completely still, and took the last sip of champagne from his flute. He observed Aziraphale fiddling with his napkin and looking around nervously for the waitress to return. When she came back, the angel immediately reached for the bill and left a generous tip without even looking at it. Crowley watched the whole process, brow furrowed as the waitress tripped over her own feet and fell face-first into the floor as soon as she was out of sight.

“Shall we go?” said Aziraphale, oblivious to it, and stood without waiting for an answer from Crowley. The demon removed his hand from the table, defeated, and followed Aziraphale outside the restaurant. It was a sunny but chilly day. “Lovely day for an equally lovely walk, isn’t it?” Aziraphale started crossing the road towards the park.

Crowley walked by Aziraphale, letting his hand go back and forth although he was starting to think about putting it inside his pocket, given the brisk breeze. But he wasn't giving up. He could do this, he had done it countless times already, placing the bait and waiting for Aziraphale to bite the fly. He flexed his hand to keep the blood flowing and sped up to keep Aziraphale's pace.

There was that time in the fourteenth century, for example. Awful century, right, but one big highlight that made it bearable. After hours of drinking beer they decided it was best to go to their own places, which turned out to be the same inn, and rest. They walked side by side, zigzagging and loudly laughing like the couple of drunks they were. It occurred to Crowley’s inebriated mind that this could be a good chance to try and tempt the angel to… well, to hold him. Making an angel hold a demon seemed like something they would approve downstairs. So he tripped over an invisible rock and stumbled for a few steps - he thought the angel had been closer to him - before landing on strong but caring arms.

“Oh, dear” said Aziraphale between hiccups. “You should watch out, you almost fell to the ground”.

“Ngk” is everything Crowley managed to say. He was really drunk, _that_ he didn’t have to pretend.

“Here, let me help you” said Aziraphale, taking Crowley's arm and putting it over his shoulders in order to steady him. He placed his arm around Crowley's waist, which almost resulted in another intelligible sound from his part. “You certainly have had one too many beers, dear” he giggled as they started walking again towards the inn. Crowley softened and tried to concentrate on how warm and soft the angel’s body felt against his. He knew Aziraphale was doing it out of pure goodness, being the angel he was, but he could live with that. 

He was aware that the two latest physical contacts had been nothing of the sort. No tempting, no tricking, almost no alcohol in the way. They had been _spontaneous__._ But that wasn't going to intimidate Crowley; if anything it encouraged him. Not even a wall of fire had stopped him before after setting his mind to something, how could an angel's shyness?

“It’s chilly today, isn’t it?” he said, rubbing his hands in a vague attempt to warm them up.

“Indeed” said Aziraphale, whose cheeks were going slightly pink because of the temperature.

“I should have brought some gloves. My hands are freezing” Crowley added, breathing into his hands and rubbing them again. He briefly looked at Aziraphale.

“Oh, dear boy, I’m so sorry to hear that. Perhaps we should go back to the bookshop?” the angel suggested.

“Oh, no, no. Nope, s’alright” years of practice at this and how in hell was failing at it now? He kicked a loose stone, angry at himself, and shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Well, then” answered Aziraphale.

They continued walking, Crowley looking at the ground with his hands in his pockets and Aziraphale looking upwards and enjoying the sunlight. No words were spoken, although many thoughts were thought. Eventually, they reached the other side of the park, where the Bentley was waiting for them. They got in the car without speaking and went to the bookshop.

“I think I’ll just head home” said Crowley once he stopped the car. He shrugged.

“Oh, Crowley, dear. Are you alright? You seem a bit off today” Aziraphale frowned and lift one hand as if to touch Crowley but then regretted it and put it on the dashboard, leaving him in an awkward posture. The demon looked at his hand with a raised brow and his mouth slightly open, shocked at how oblivious Aziraphale could sometimes be. The angel looked at his own hand. “Oh” he said, suddenly realising what was going on. “I’m so sorry, Crowley. I’m still getting used to... this” he gestured to include the entire world. “Not being judged- I mean, observed by, well, upstairs” Aziraphale looked at the car’s roof. “And I- I enjoy holding your hand, I’m positively sure you know that, don’t you?” he put on a hesitant smile and hovered his hand over Crowley’s. The demon looked at it wander for a moment and then met Aziraphale’s hand with his own. He couldn’t avoid letting out a soft sigh, it felt warm and soft and it sent jolts through his fingers. “I just feel” the angel continued “that I’m constantly observed and about to be smitten. I know I’m not, at least for now, but still. It has been six thousand years believing so and now it’s difficult to keep those thoughts away.”

“Well, we can always hold hands in private” the demon shrugged, playing it cooler than he felt inside. “Perhaps let the public hand holding for the future? When you feel better about it?” he raised their hands to his lips and placed a soft kiss on the angel’s knuckles. Aziraphale smiled shyly and Crowley decided he was going to that again as soon as he had the chance. “Or perhaps never if you don’t want to, I’m okay with that too” he bluffed, as if he was talking about never riding a horse again.

“Thank you, Crowley. You truly are too good to me” Aziraphale slowly leaned in before Crowley could complain and softly placed his lips on the demon's, a delicate touch that put into the world everything that the angel hadn’t been able to put into words. It felt like all those stolen touches throughout the ages put together in one single instant. Crowley's heart fluttered and he let go Aziraphale’s hand only to immediately cup his cheek and draw him closer, not wanting to ever let go.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, lovely reader! I couldn't help myself and wrote just another fluffy fanfic, inspired by a tweet about certain David Tennant confirming that they did held hands in the bus scene. I know there are hundreds of these, but it is what it is. Please know that comments are welcomed :)  
PS: You can find me on Tumblr (@SouthOmens). I'm not very active but I post there whenever I upload a new fic :)  
PPS: Check out my other works too, or not. I'm a note, not a cop.


End file.
